


HofogeraxMrotchelyng

by depresane



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Icewind Dale, Icewind Dale: Heart of Winter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anatomy, Artistic Liberties, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dry Humping, F/F, Fantasy Contraceptive, Femslash, Femslash February, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Interracial By Fantasy Standards, Lesbian Sex, My First Smut, Non-Penetrative Sex, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Porn, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, escapism through sex, fantasy anatomy, followed by penetrative sex, overly detailed sex scene?, there's a bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 12:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depresane/pseuds/depresane
Summary: Two OCs have sex at an inn. That's it. That's the premise.Update: Thank you very much for 500 views.





	HofogeraxMrotchelyng

Lonelywood. A group of three half-elves, a gnome, a dwarf, and a human stayed at the Whistling Gallows Inn, each in their own room. All but one half-elf went upstairs.  
The half-elf, half-orc locked the door with a sliding bolt. She put an oil lamp on a tall table with a small, square surface. She felt her right earlobe and took off a hoop earring. There were two more circular rings on her left ear; she removed those as well. She didn’t need a mirror. Stud earrings shone under her pointy helixes; she kept those on even during battles.  
She sat on her bed and began undoing her long, curly, black hair. A hair tie snapped and hit a wall; a sigh followed. She counted twenty-eight hairpins. She squeezed her hair thoroughly, hoping the other two were still there. Not a chance. She gathered the pins and moved them onto the table.  
She proceeded with her armour, humming a tune from her bard’s latest song. Her breastplate and chainmail rested on a wooden stand; she threw her gauntlets onto an end table, pulled her red skirt downwards and took off her boots: greaves welded with sabatons.  
She gazed at the ceiling, wearing a linen shirt and a cloth around her crotch.  
“Not a single pleasure house in here. Just that drunk wife in despair. I should tell Muorhehe in the morning, convince them to chat; can’t leave her like this. And definitely can’t invite her to bed.”  
It seemed like she didn’t match her companions when it came to eroticism. The gnome was worryingly shy, so she decided to leave her; Muorhehe, the bard, was still figuring out all the ups and downs of their morphed body; the human refused twice already; the dwarf admitted she was male-oriented; Helepeta, the half-elf witch, showed no signs of lust whatsoever and thus, no interest in sexual intercourse.  
And there she was, Hofogera Orcinata Hakardil, craving for physical entertainment.  
Then. Two gentle knocks.  
She raised her trimmed eyebrows, “Who’s there?”  
“B’vek,” a voice replied and continued in a string of sounds she couldn’t put together.  
The half-orc donned her skirt again and unlocked the door.  
She saw a tall person in a chainmail shirt and green skirt, wearing a bronze masked helmet. Meanwhile, the person saw a green half-elf with thick lips and a muscular figure.  
“You foreign?,” she asked.  
“Uuuh…”  
She intertwined her index fingers and took a breath, “Comprehend languages.”  
A blue light tickled her ears and throat. She tried again, “You foreign?”  
“Sounds like it. You’re foreign to me as well.”  
“May I see your face?”  
The person removed their helmet. Their light grey hair stuck on their cheeks and neck. They had one eye red, one eye white, no pupils, crimson scratch scars, and around five wrinkles under their eyes. Not a single old human she has met lived with such unproportionally located, unnaturally abundant wrinkles. Except the warrior in front of her didn’t appear to be a human being, with their stone grey skin, short nose, and pointy ears.  
Suddenly, she got interested in the stranger. “Come to my room so we don’t attract attention of the host.”  
So they did, uncertain of the lady’s intentions.  
“My name is Hofogera. Yours?”  
“Mrotchelyng.”  
“What are you doing here?”  
“A friend of mine enchanted a mirror. She made it serve as a portal. Aaand it led me through another mirror to somebody’s room. Where am I?”  
“An inn behind the mountains. The Spine of the World, Icewind Dale. Does it ring a bell?”  
“Not at all. There is the _Throat_ of the World where I come from, but no Spine.”  
“Huh. What country or city-state?”  
“Skyrim. The city’s Whiterun.”  
“That… might be a completely different plane.”  
The person rotated their helmet in their hands, “Another dimension? How many moons are there in the sky?”  
“One.”  
They tilted their head, “We have two. Indeed, this is a different planet even. And yet, it contains sentient, intelligent, bipedal folk like you. And magic. I assume that’s… magical that we can understand each other now.”  
“Actually, that’s my deity’s glory. But we do have magic here. And dark elves, too.”  
“Really? How similar are they to my kind?”  
“Theyyy… live underground, worship a spider goddess… exchange slaves for goods… They’re raised in mutual treachery and distrust.”  
The answer clearly saddened them, “Oh. I don’t know what’s worse, then.”  
“You mean?”  
“My people do have a history of slave trade, but at the same time, they’re politically dependent on the Imperials. It’s a mess. Constant riots, interference and civil wars. Which is why I wanted to step outside for a brief moment. Or maybe forever.”  
“It won’t be any better for you here. Drows are persecuted no matter if they’re spies or refugees.”  
“I see.”  
“Buuut, I’m not throwing you out. You could stay here for one night. Especially if… you’d like a lady’s touch. I know it won’t solve any problems you’re facing. It’s just a suggestion.”  
Mrotchelyng swang their eyes from Hofogera’s hair to her well-trained thighs. “Damn. How much?”  
“Oh, I’m not… Tomb raiding is my source of income, not sex. Simply… Um…”  
“There’s no one around to play with you.”  
“Exactly.”  
“Well, then. I’ll get ready.”  
Mrotchelyng left their helmet on another end table. They doffed their chainmail, leather shirt, armguards, woolen skirt, cotton trousers and iron shoes; they tossed it all on the floor.  
Hofogera was stunned. Just like that, they agreed and went topless. What a stroke of luck. With her mouth subconsciously open, she sat on the bed and examined the dark elf’s gorgeous body, heavily scarred, slightly muscular and chubby. Lack of breasts surprised her, and the location of nipples even more so.  
“Er, may I?”  
They grinned, “Yes?”  
“How do you feed your babies?”  
“They’re on our laps. Simple as that.”  
She nodded, “I guess it makes sense. We hold ours in our arms, rock them gently…,” she demonstrated with an invisible infant, “Ah, since it’s not so obvious for you, maybe I’ll… also…”  
She pulled the skirt down and the shirt upwards; she held it right over her chest, exposing her torso.  
Intrigued, Mrotchelyng moved closer and sat next to Hofogera. They slowly reached out and cupped her left breast. She giggled and twitched from excitement. She could see how they licked their thin lips and shuffled them as if to distribute moist evenly. …It seemed sexier before she thought about it the way she did. She looked away and gasped, realizing she held her breath for a bit too long.  
“Is that all it takes?,” they joked.  
“No,” she laughed out loud and covered her face.  
They hummed with delight and moved another hand towards her. They traced her face from her forehead to her jawline. She finally found courage in herself and laid her hands on their shoulders.  
Their warm bodies, glistening with the lamp’s golden highlight, demanded more.  
She started by smooching their upper lip.  
And colliding with each other’s noses.  
They muttered a laughing grumble, “Do you know what to do?”  
“Yup.”  
“Then, what was that?”  
“A miscalculation,” she suppressed another laughter, which distorted her speech.  
They kissed her cheek, “Try again.”  
This time, she made their noses touch and glide, and then pressed her lips. She twitched again, reacting to her clitoris. Kissing continued; Mrotchelyng joined in, learning how soon their lover releases her mouth. Hofogera embraced them and stroke their upper back; she grew impatient and kissed faster. They replied by caressing her from her breasts down to her waist. She moaned in their face; they sensed an herbal scent.  
Their blushing bodies wanted more.  
She raised her leg and wrapped it behind them. They guessed what she planned to do; they held her buttocks and fixed her against their stomach. She secured herself with the other leg and began rubbing.  
The cloth stimulated her and her clitoris throbbed in bliss. By gods, how she needed this. Mrotchelyng kept her close and reached for her neck: one breath, two, and a passionate kiss.  
She smiled, “A bit to my left…”  
The second kiss tickled her. She was rubbing herself significantly faster.  
“Stay there. And don’t bite.”  
“As you wish,” they licked her instead.  
They continued until Hofogera gave a louder moan. She could feel her labia as the cloth got wet and smooth. With a grin, she leaned to her lover and kissed her shoulder.  
She wasn’t done yet. Mrotchelyng rested their leg on the bed and allowed Hofogera to sit on their thigh. She took her shirt off and unwrapped her cloth. She made sure her clitoris touched her partner’s leg and resumed.  
This time, there was a constant rhythm in her rubbing. Breathing with her mouth only, she clinged to their body and cleared her mind, ready to give in entirely. Meanwhile, they were caressing her, drawing lines next to her spine.  
“What’s that wet substance for?,” they asked.  
“A phallus slides in easier. Or fingers.”  
“Hm. I’m guessing they’re not flexible, then.”  
“Phalli? Nuh, they’re stiff and they throb.”  
“You tried one?”  
“Yes. Quite fun, but I think…,” she stretched out and went faster with short movements, “I prefer it when all the fun’s outside,” her playful voice thrilled them.  
A new portion of fluids covered Mrotchelyng’s thigh. Hofogera’s moaning peaked again. She slipped closer to her lover and gave her a thankful kiss.  
“Are you ready for your turn?,” she whispered.  
“Are you ready for the sight?,” they teased her.  
“Show it to me,” she stood up.  
Mrotchelyng made themselves comfortable on the bed, raised their hips and took their cloth off. Indeed, their genitals differed from hers: their clitoris was hanging softly, an inch of bendible tissue and a small glans, grey and pink, with a closed sphincter.  
Hofogera gazed at the organ, “Can you move it?”  
“No.”  
“Is it sensitive?”  
“Oh, yes. You could suck it or squish it.”  
“Mm, I don’t know if I still have… those,” she reached to an end table and checked its drawer, “Ah, I do,” she almost sang, picking up… a piece of stretched out frog skin.  
“I hope it’s not poisonous.”  
“No, we’ve got experts who farm and prepare those. It might feel funny, though,” she winked, licked the protection and wrapped it all around Mrotchelyng’s clitoris.  
It did feel unusual to them, but it also released a warming sensation that stiffened their glans.  
Hofogera crawled closer, caressed Mrotchelyng’s thigh, took a mouthful and watched their face as she was carefully playing with her tongue and their genitals. The protection stuck as if glued on, so her lover quickly accepted its presence.  
They were pleasantly surprised. Despite Hofogera’s initial awkwardness, she did know how to make her lover twist in arousal. Mrotchelyng was panting and subconsciously spreading their twitching legs.  
“More, darling…”  
She pressed her lips, squishing their clitoris all the way from its root to its glans. “You mean?”  
“My womb is craving for you.”  
She took a look under their clitoris, but she found only smooth skin. Next, she stroke their pubic hair above. There it was: a small opening, revealing the pink inside. She returned to her drawer, opened a jar and gathered a slimy gel with circular motions. She closed the jar with four fingers holding the lid.  
Mrotchelyng made no comment, anticipating their partner’s move.  
Hofogera returned to oral sex and aligned her finger with the vaginal opening. Slowly and gently, she screwed her way in. The walls inside responded to each wiggle like a sponge but their surface felt like a paper sheet.  
“Mro?,” she called with her mouth full.  
“You’re close,” they spoke back, breathing shallowly, their eyes closed, “Push deeper, there’s a hard spot; you’ll feel it.”  
She trusted them and went a bit further. Indeed, beneath the walls, an oval organ was pounding like Mrotchelyng’s heart. She grazed it with just a fingertip and her lover turned again with a gasp.  
“You got it. Go on!,” they begged.  
It didn’t take long. Mrotchelyng sank deeper in the bed, panting and swaying their hips. Hofogera kept screwing and pushing against the spot while sucking the clitoris. Then, the opening tightened around her finger and the walls pushed back, holding it still. She waited. Her partner exposed their upper teeth biting their lower lip; their breath whistled back and forth. She watched. Finally, the dark elf fixed their hair and wiped away a drool. The vagina loosened up and released the temporarily trapped finger.  
“Well done. You’ve charmed me,” their voice lowered from the orgasm.  
She slipped her mouth away and grinned, “Thank you. It’s always more fun with another person.”  
Mrotchelyng sat up. The half-elf climbed up and licked their ear.  
“Behind,” they hinted.  
Hofogera obeyed, kissing repeatedly behind their ear. They hummed and felt her breasts once again.  
The oil lamp was running out of both oil and wick. Soon, there was a friendly darkness and mildly annoying sounds of heartful kisses.


End file.
